


Tojours Pur

by CS_WhiteWolf



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blackcest, Canonical Character Death, Emotional Manipulation, Incest, M/M, Rape/Non-con References, Self-Harm, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-10-12
Updated: 2005-10-12
Packaged: 2017-10-22 23:03:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/243557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CS_WhiteWolf/pseuds/CS_WhiteWolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Regulus cannot stop looking at the veins that connect them, at the blood that makes this wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tojours Pur

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [LiveJournal] Cestfest’s Autumn Challenge, 2005.

It was getting late, Regulus vaguely noted. He could see the steadily darkening sky through a gap in the thick velvety curtains that covered the windows. The curtains were always closed, or at least they were when he was in the room. For Regulus could not stand to be in this room with the daylight streaming through the windows, lighting everything up; drops of sunshine gold touching at his pale and frail frame as if trying to taint him, turn him. He didn’t want to be like _him_ , at all. _Gryffindor_.

Regulus sat himself on the floor, the carpet beneath him thick and plush; cushioning him for the hours he stayed, sat, set in one position. Hands gripping at his knees as he stared ahead, at the tapestry before him. The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. _Toujours pur_. He sees the names, the dates, years of births and deaths, families entwined, linked, and connected by those little strands of gold; mother, father… brother. _Sirius_.

He drops his head, dark strands of hair falling forward to tickle at his face, dusting along the high cheekbones of a pale and aristocratic face; aquiline nose, blue-grey eyes, full lips now pulled tight, turned into a thin line. He rarely smiled anymore. Not since… not unless… _oh, Sirius_.

The slightest sliver of tongue dips between his lips, wetting them before he allows a little puff of breath to be exhaled from his partly opened mouth. His eyes gaze over his arms- hands still gripping at his knees. He sits so still, almost as if in punishment, but he has made himself both judge and executioner and then, when judgement has been delivered, he makes himself the victim too, because it’s wrong. It’s so, so wrong. Because he’s wrong, he’s bad. But he doesn’t ever want it to stop.

He twists his arms around, sleeves bunching at the elbow, staring at smooth and pale skin, once unmarred but now littered with an array of bites and bruises and cuts. Only the cuts belong to him. Only the cuts are his to control. His eyes trace along the larger of the veins poking up from his left wrist, it is so thick and full to look at, so blue. _Little King_.

Regulus swallows thickly, his eyes lingering on the vein a moment, a familiar itch causing a twitch in his fingers. It’s just begging to be cut into, but Regulus controls himself and turns his head away, looking up at the tapestry before him once more. He sees with unseeing eyes the names and the lines that make them family. _Sirius… brother… family… oh, Sirius, why?_

He drops his eyes to his arms once more. His hands are clenched into tight fists as he stares at the evidence before him. The bruises are fresh, the bites less so, but they’re still there. Still staining him there with their vivid hues of beaten blacks and blister blues and deep plum purples. It’s not often they’re allowed to fade to the sickly yellows of healing and fading. Regulus isn’t sure if he wants them to.

The knife is in his hand before he knows it. It was a gift- _from him_ \- given in happier times, but always a faithful friend in the unhappy ones. It’s only one slice, one quick slit across that deep blue vein. He almost expects the blood to run blue. It doesn’t of course; it never has and never will. _Little King, don’t you love me?_ His blood looks almost black in the steadily darkening room. He knows it’s not really black either. He’s not tainted, not his namesake… not that much, not yet. _Toujours pur_.

Even in the fading light, Regulus cannot stop looking at the veins that connect them, at the blood that makes this wrong. It runs in rivulets down his wrist and he wonders once again, the thought as old as this habit, sprung from the very first time- _their very first time_ \- if maybe there should be some sort of sign, something- _anything_ \- to tell him that he’s bled enough, that it’s not wrong anymore. Because if he bleeds every night, if he lets the blood flow from his veins- then maybe, just maybe they won’t be family anymore and this wouldn’t be so very, very wrong. If he were to bleed enough, if he were able to drain himself of the blood of a Black, would they no longer be too closely related? Would it then be allowed? Would it be okay to want his brother as his lover?

He always comes to him in the dark. His brother does. When the lights are out and night is upon them, Sirius comes to him, slips into his room and into his bed, slips into his body and possesses him in ways he shouldn’t, in a way a brother isn’t supposed to. Regulus lets him. He doesn’t think to stop him, to push him away. It doesn’t even cross his mind to say no, to deny Sirius. Sirius who comes bearing apologies for the hurts and grievances he may have caused Regulus during the day- _when it’s light_ \- for the spiteful words and the violent actions; the whispers that made him cower and the fresh bruises that have bloomed on pale skin.

The cut still seeps with the freshness of the wound. He raises it to his lips and licks it clean, tastes the blood and revels in the knowledge that _he_ did this to himself. Not Sirius. _Sirius_. Sirius, who hates him during the day, hates him with a vengeance Regulus finds truly terrifying in its intensity. But in the night he loves him. At night, Sirius loves Regulus in ways a brother shouldn’t. And yes, Regulus lets him. Lets him because he’s weak, because he loves Sirius too and wants his brother to love him as deeply and passionately as their nights together are, because Sirius changes in the dark, changes in ways he can’t when it’s light when there are others around, when they are not as close and intimate as they are when the lights go out.

It’s as a jinx of thought, Regulus muses, tensing as the door behind him is pushed slowly open, the flickering glow of candlelight dimly lighting the room. Footsteps- muffled by the carpet, but nevertheless audible- approach him. The candlelight sends shadows up over the walls and high ceiling as it is brought closer and then lowered to the ground beside him. Regulus doesn’t turn to acknowledge his brother, his hands are gripping at his knees again, his eyes riveted to the tapestry. _Toujours pur_.

He knows it’s Sirius who is behind him. Knows that it’s Sirius shuffling closer towards him until he can pull Regulus- unresistingly- into his lap. _Déjà vu; of a hundred other nights wrapped tight in forbidden arms_. Knows because he can smell Sirius, smell his brother’s scent of musk and sweat and of the oil and grease he uses on his bike, the one he hides from their parents in the shed at the back of their garden. He stole it from one of the neighbours. He claims he’ll make it fly. _And then, Regulus, I’ll take us away! Far away from here, where no one will know us! I’ll take you to the moon and back, Reg; we’ll see the stars together!_

Regulus allows his head to fall back onto Sirius’ shoulder as his brother presses a small kiss to the side of his throat, his arms already encircling Regulus’ waist, hand stroking at the flat planes of his stomach, the muscles already quivering beneath his brother’s touch. His nails bite through the material of his robes- crescent moon cuts sure to appear on his knees in the morning.

Sirius kisses his neck again, his breath hot and searing as he moves upwards, his tongue slipping out to lave at Regulus’ flesh, to taste at his skin in a trail up towards his ear where Sirius suckles at his lobe, pulling it into his mouth and teasing it with licks and nips until Regulus shifts against him, unable to hold back the smallest of whimpers.

Sirius chuckles into his ear, the sound dark and rumbling up from the chest pressed against his back. Regulus cannot help but shiver at the sound, his breath hitching as Sirius’ hands drift towards his legs, both hands grabbing at his robes and tugging the material upwards.

Regulus shifts in his brother’s lap, his hands becoming dislodged from their grip on his knees and left to hang limply at his sides, curled into little balls of indecision as his robe is hiked up past his knees, the material brushing across his exposed thighs a moment before Sirius’ hands drift round, slipping beneath Regulus’ sitting form and pulling the robes up around his waist, brushing tauntingly across the curve of his arse in the process.

Sirius nips at his neck, his eyes no doubt drinking in the sight of his brother’s exposed form, from the delicate arch of his foot to the slenderness of his calves and ankles, his eyes running up Regulus’ long, pale legs with an intensity that _burned_. Sirius placed his right hand onto his brother’s thigh, fingers feeling, touching, pressing and stroking at the flesh there, beautifully unmarred skin. His fingers slipped round, dipping down to touch at Regulus’ inner thigh and feeling the warm heat of his flesh as he ran his hand upwards, the tips of his fingers making first contact with the soft flesh of his brother’s nether regions.

Regulus’ robes were pulled tight against his stomach so that Sirius could lay eyes on him, his brother’s hand already curling around his flaccid penis, touching and stoking along it’s length in an attempt to excite him, entice him. _Don’t you love me, Reg?_ Regulus could hear Sirius’ breathing quicken against his ear and knew his was just as short and shallow as his brother’s. He felt the growing hardness of Sirius’ own excitement against the small of his back too, his member swelling with blood and desire as a result. Sirius’ groan of pleasure at getting Regulus erect echoed against his neck and he moaned softly, turning his face to look at his brother for the first time this evening.

He barely had a chance to take in the face so alike his own but so different too before his brother’s mouth descended upon his, Sirius’ lips hard and demanding against his own, the feel of stubble against his bottom lip electrifying as Sirius’ tongue forced its way into Regulus’ mouth, the slick muscle plunging in and out of his parted lips, claiming him in a way that was both hard and violent but gentle and considerate at the same time.

Regulus whimpered into the kiss as Sirius’ ministrations on his erection ceased momentarily as he was manoeuvred and pushed down onto his back, Sirius’ body quick to lie atop his smaller frame, his mouth continuing to plunder his own. Sirius slipped a knee between his legs, his hands moving to his waist, his palms running over his hips, and along his sides, feeling the ridges of his ribs as they moved upwards, pushing his robes higher as they roamed. Regulus could only shiver at the touch of Sirius’ hands as they moved over his chest, mapping and touching and teasing. Fingers finding the bump of a nipple and twisting it between thumb and index fingers, pinching and rolling as Regulus’ breath hitched over and over.

Sirius grinned at him, his face looking rugged and pale in the darkened room for the moment Regulus is able to see him before his brother dips his head to worry his nipples between his skilful lips, tongue laving at first one then the other before pulling away with a teasing breath of air across the wetted buds.

His hands are once more insistently pushing Regulus’ robes higher, higher, until Regulus has no other choice by to lift his arms above his head as Sirius tugs the robes over his face, pausing when the material becomes caught before the bump of Regulus’ nose, the unfastened buttons refusing to give way and leaving Regulus trapped within them- blinded and bound as Sirius stops trying to get the robes off and instead lowers his mouth to his brother’s once again.

Regulus’ heart pounded frantically against his chest, body frozen at being confined in this manner, whimpering and arching despite himself as Sirius breathes over his exposed mouth- chest heaving in fear and expectation- wanting for Sirius to release him, to kiss him, to remove his robes completely, to touch his mouth to his own and dip his tongue in and out of his wanton lips.

Regulus wants for Sirius to claim him, softly and gently and hard and violently and all consuming. Possessively. He gasps then moans at the feel of Sirius’ faintly stubbled face as he rubs their cheeks together. It’s little signs like this that make Regulus shudder in desire and disgust; knowing that Sirius was growing up, growing older, so much older than him, so much bigger, should know better, should know when to stop. So protective and defending, forceful and aggressive. Takes what he wants, when he wants. Does what he likes, who he likes. _Don’t you love me, Little King?_

And he does, oh he does! _Sirius…_

Sirius runs his hand down Regulus’ neck, fingers curling around his shoulder, his thumb stretching over to rub at the hollow of his throat, pressing in bit by bit until Regulus is thrashing and choking and crying and begging, tears soaked up by the robes pulled taunt over his face. The hand that chokes then soothes away the hurt, the lips then follow. The hand that controls him rubs gently at his throat, has him begging, moaning, wanting, screaming, pleading, crying. _Sirius! Sirius, oh please, no, Sirius!_

Regulus cries out at the sharp nip given to his jaw, then his chin, the teeth moving to his lips and clamping down upon the bottom- pulling, tugging, biting till it bleeds, he bleeds- coppery tang staining tongue and teeth. His moans are unheeded. His tears unseen. Sirius’ tongue is quick to suck at the wound, slipping into his mouth, lapping at blood and saliva and teeth and claiming, mouth moving bruisingly against Regulus’, until he is whimpering little moans of hurt and want.

Then Sirius’ hands are on him again, touching him, toying and playing with him, teasing him to leaking and aching hardness once more, and grinding against him, his still clothed body rubbing against his own naked form in ways that have Regulus thrashing and writhing beneath him. Thrashing and writhing until he can free his arms, free his face, gasp for air in passion and thankfullness moments before Sirius’ mouth is once more attacking his own, pinning his arms down, thrusting more fiercly against him, the friction almost painful but oh so wanted, so needed.

And then Sirius is naked beside him, atop him, _within_ him. Bodies connected and thrusting and arching and moaning and crying out little groans of want and pleasure, writhing against each other as they ride closer and closer, cresting the waves of their desire to spill with hoarse shouts, their orgasms taking over their jerking and shuddering bodies, throwing them over the edge- _to the stars, Reg! We’ll see the stars together!_

\- - -

Regulus cannot stop looking at the veins that connect them, at the blood that makes it wrong. That made it wrong. He sits, set in one position, hands gripping at his knees as he stared ahead, at the tapestry before him. The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. _Toujours pur_. His eyes run across all its little intricacies, the linking lines of the family tree, notes the names, the dates, years of births and deaths, families entwined, linked, and connected by those little strands of gold; mother, father… the blast mark where once a brother’s name did reside. _Sirius_.

A brother who left them, left home, left _him_. Left him with one last kiss and one last promise- _I love you, Reg. We’ll see the stars together one day, Little King!_ \- one last bruise and one last beating. Words of love and hate echo in his ears as his grip tightens on his knees, arms aching, body crying out with stiffness and pain, he cannot remove his eyes from the spot, that spot beside his own name, the one that denies his brother ever existed.

 _Sirius_. Sirius who ran away from home, flew off into the night on his stolen motorbike. Leaving Regulus behind him, pale faced with bitter tears, standing naked at the window and staring out into the night, watching with a heart that twisted within his chest as his brother flew off. He didn’t even look back.

\- - -

Regulus cannot stop looking at the veins that connect them, at the blood that makes it wrong. The veins that connected him, the blood that made it all so wrong. He sits, slumped, body wracked by the potion’s effects, poison rushing through his veins in gleeful delight, eating away at his life. He’s surprised he’s made it this far, made it back to this place, this house- left to disorder and disrepair. _The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black_. His eyes seek out the tapestry, seek out the patch burnt away where once a name did reside. _Toujours pur_.

He smiles, lips twisting grimly as he remembers the memories, the reminders of love and hate and the hand that controled both. Thinks back on what he’s made of his life since Sirius left him, left him alone to wiles and wants of their parents. It hardly matters now though. The locket is safe. He’s attempted at least to repent on his mistakes. He can’t help wishing his brother were here though, to hold him one last time as all grows dark… and cold… the curtains are closed. They are always closed, at least when he is in the room. Regulus doesn’t like the light. And perhaps that was his downfall. _I’ll take you to the moon and back, Reg; we’ll see the stars together, Little King!_

Regulus closes his eyes. The whisper of words spoken into his ear, or perhaps it was just the echo in his mind. He wouldn’t know because he didn’t open his eyes again.

\- - -

Regulus smiles widely; his brother’s grin is infectious. He tightens his hold about Sirius’ waist as they fly high into the sky, the engine of the motorbike humming and vibrating beneath them. Sirius only looks back once, not to see the sparkle in his brother’s eyes, but to look with shadowed gaze at the curtains of the veil that flicker so tauntingly behind them. All it would take to return to the Department of Mysteries would be to leave Regulus behind. Regulus who has been waiting for him.

Sirius finally looks at him, looks at him and smiles, his grin returning as he revvs up the engine and away they go! Off, off into a world of perpetual darkness, with only the brightness of the moon and the stars to light their way. And Sirius finally takes him to the moon, and back. They see the stars together. It is so much better than anything Regulus could ever have imagined. It doesn’t even matter anymore that they are brothers, bound by blood, blood that has ceased to flow through the veins of their corporeal forms. Nothing matters anymore. Nothing except the stars.

 

 _ **Fin**_.


End file.
